


The Thanksgiving Dinner Job

by phnelt



Series: Leverage Works [5]
Category: Leverage
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Coming Out, Family Feels, Multi, Thanksgiving, blood families, chosen families, families, so many turkeys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-05-19 09:09:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19353898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phnelt/pseuds/phnelt
Summary: “Oh no,” Hardison groaned dramatically, throwing his hands in the air. “I’m so sorry you guys.” They’re sitting on the couch, Eliot and Parker are cleaning their knives -- Parker uses hers to mostly cut rope, Eliot’s mostly uses them to cut people -- and Hardison is sitting next to them with his laptop. It had been a pretty pleasant evening so far. Nothing seems to be immediately bleeding, or on fire, so Eliot’s reaction is maybe a little more muted that it would be if Parker said the same words. Eliot thinks about switching to high alert, but Hardison, as a rule, has no sense of proportion. He gets about this dramatic when they run out of orange soda.“I have to host Thanksgiving for the family this year -- and no I can’t get out of it, I already checked.”Or: Eliot cooks a turkey





	The Thanksgiving Dinner Job

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kirathaune](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kirathaune/gifts).



> Written for Kirathaune for Not Prime Time, who requested that I write whatever I like. I hope you like this!
> 
> Post-reveal I want to send huge thanks to my beta Karios who helped unstick the ending and to sapote who educated me about how american Thanksgiving works. Any cultural errors after that are mine.

“Oh no,” Hardison groaned dramatically, throwing his hands in the air. “I’m so sorry you guys.” They’re sitting on the couch, Eliot and Parker are cleaning their knives -- Parker uses hers to mostly cut rope, Eliot’s mostly uses them to cut people -- and Hardison is sitting next to them with his laptop. It had been a pretty pleasant evening so far. Nothing seems to be immediately bleeding, or on fire, so Eliot’s reaction is maybe a little more muted that it would be if Parker said the same words. Eliot thinks about switching to high alert, but Hardison, as a rule, has no sense of proportion. He gets about this dramatic when they run out of orange soda. 

Eliot and Parker look at each other, but he caves first, which he knows she is banking on, and asks, “What’s going on?” Then he just hopes it isn’t something that makes him want to saw his own arm off in frustrated adrenaline, like the time Hardison found out he missed Jonathan Frakes coming to town.

“I have to host Thanksgiving for the family this year -- and no I can’t get out of it, I already checked.” Eliot hadn’t been about to ask. Hardison continues, “Nana knows about the brewpub and there is nowhere we can hide.” Eliot isn’t really seeing the problem here.

“So?”

“So? ‘So?’ you ask me?”

“Yeah, Hardison, get to the point.” Eliot manfully resists rolling his eyes.

“Ok, the point, you want the point.” Hardison’s hands are now whipping back and forth as he turns to face them on the couch. “The point is, fifty Hardisons are about to descend on this brewpub like the fury of God and there is nothing, I repeat nothing, I can do to stop them.” Eliot checks in with Parker and she shrugs, confirming that they’re still at 0% understanding. 

From Eliot’s perspective, this is a Hardison problem. 

Eliot’s already mentally scouting trips; Venice is nice this time of year and Parker probably hasn’t already stripped the palazzos there.

“Y’all evidently don’t know my cousin Andre, hateful man that he is.”

“Amber’s nice,” Parker pipes up, pretty fairly because Amber  _ is _ nice. They met her last year. When Hardison skypes with her, he laughs sometimes, and Eliot will never admit it but Hardison laughing is one of his favourite sounds.

“Amber is only one Hardison and there are thousands more of them, all significantly worse.” Hardison has gone from fifty guests to thousands, so it sounds like the catastrophizing is going well. At any point now, he’ll tell them it can’t be done and then he’ll do it anyway.

“Ok so, so that’s not exciting, but it’s only a few days and then they’ll be gone. It’s not that big a deal,” Parker says, and Eliot finds himself nodding along. He went to one of Shelley’s family Thanksgivings back when they were still with the service, and it was actually...nice. Two of his sisters got into a screaming match about gravy, but the food was tasty. 

And before that...he’s not even letting himself think about Thanksgiving growing up, everyone hanging out on the back porch, too stuffed to move and... _ not thinking about it,  _ he reminds himself. Venice is lovely this time of year.

“Yeah man, once they’re gone you can come join us.” Eliot turns to Parker, “I’m thinking Venice,” and she nods back at him enthusiastically. “Yeah, so, come join us in Venice and you can complain all about it.”

A light goes on in Hardison’s eyes. Maybe more of a demonic gleam if Eliot’s being ungenerous. “Ah, I get you now. You think this is a me problem.” Hardison leans in. “Unfortunately for you, Nana has made it clear to me that she wants to see how I’ve settled, and by that she means settled down. So that means you’re expected to stick around.” 

Parker makes an honest to God hissing sound, and Eliot should have seen this coming.  _ Stupid,  _ Eliot thinks,  _ he has a family, this was going to happen.  _ Of course his family was going to show up, ready to celebrate his business and his girlfriend. They’re going to fill this house with happy Hardisons, delighted to meet Parker, ready to ask her about when she’s going to add to the tribe, and there’s going to be no place for him.  _ Fuck.  _ Why does that thought hurt? Thirty seconds ago he’d been planning a vacation. Nothing’s changed except Parker isn’t going with him. And he takes vacations alone all the time. Well, they’re more favours for friends and look a lot like work, but the point is he’s no stranger to solo travel and to being alone on holidays.

He decides to be reassuring for Parker’s sake. There’s no point in kicking up a fuss, not when Hardison and Parker are both already stressed about this. In a soothing tone, he says, “It’ll be fine, like you just said, Amber’s nice.” 

This sets Hardison off on another rant about how they’ll have to buy so much food and close the brewpub and maybe rent out a hotel, but Eliot has him tuned out. Normally when Hardison goes on a rant, it’s comforting, like a burbling brook of words and Eliot’s just the happy rock in the stream being worn smooth, but this time Eliot is detached from it. It’s like he’s listening through a wall to a conversation in another room. Parker seems to sense his detachment and throws him a concerned glance, but he gives her nothing back, just stays staring at Hardison resolutely. It’s not her fault; he just doesn’t have it in him to reassure her right now about whatever is worrying her. 

She frowns and he knows that means he’ll be hearing about this later, but as long as later isn’t now he’ll take it.

\---

He books his flight to Ulaanbataar, somewhere where there’s nothing to hack and nothing to steal, where he’d never want to take Parker and Hardison anyway. He’s heard that if you drive out of the city you can see dinosaur fossils jutting out of the red sand, like the earth itself has cracked open to reveal the bones underneath. He reckons he might enjoy standing in the same space that Genghis Khan had decided that he could rule the world from. Give himself some perspective. Looking at the departure options, he gives himself about two days buffer on either side of T-Day itself, figures that should be enough for things to calm down.  _ There,  _ he thinks,  _ done.  _ He clicks book and wanders off to make dinner.

He’s cooking up some goulash, an ultimate comfort food and it should freeze well, when Hardison charges back down the stairs, stern-faced. Parker has been draped over the counter stealing nibbles, but when she sees Hardison she stands up straight, ready and alert.

“Guys, we have a problem, I just got an alert on one of Eliot’s aliases, we might be blown.” Eliot wipes his hands, frowns. That is serious.

“Which one?” Parker asks. If it’s one of their recently used ones, could mean a mark is coming for revenge.

“Someone bought plane tickets for Mike Sylvester. It’s gotta be some type of a message or something, I dunno, a threat.” Eliot rolls his eyes a little.

“No, that was me.” Blank stares so he clarifies a little, “For Thanksgiving.” Hardison just goggles at Eliot for a minute, mouth slightly open.

Parker, quick on the uptake like usual, pipes up, “If Eliot’s not going, I’m not going.”

“No, you’re both going,” Hardison says slowly and deliberately, “We already talked about this.”

“No way,” Eliot finds himself saying before he’d really given himself permission, “I’m not going to spend three days watching everyone ask you when you’re going to get married while I pretend to be your good friend or weird roommate.”  _ Again,  _ he mentally adds. He may have exaggerated about how fun the Shelleys’ Thanksgiving was, even though their relationship was nowhere near the level of what he and Hardison and Parker have. And if it had hurt watching the way Shelley had shied away from him when his momma was looking, no way he can take it from these two, the ones who he’s built his whole life and future around.

Hardison looks shocked, which is a little infuriating. Eliot knows he rolls over for a lot, but even he has more self-respect than that. 

Parker just squints at Eliot before turning to Hardison, “Why does he think that?” Her voice goes a little low and dangerous, “Is that what we’re doing?”

“No!” Hardison practically shouts. And it seems like Parker is just as surprised as Hardison is.

It takes Eliot aback. 

They sit in silence for a second but then Hardison wilts a little as he continues, “I had a whole speech prepared for how we should tell everyone we’re all together, since I thought it was obvious we’d need to, due to the million Hardisons arriving. I was just waiting cause I know, Eliot, sometimes you’re weird about telling people. I have a bribe and some illustrative aides coming in the mail.” Hardison pauses for a second. “The bribe is for you, Eliot. The aides are for the family.” 

Eliot has a suspicion about these illustrative aides.

“Are they matching shirts?” Hardison’s look is all the answer he needs on that one. “Hardison, no way I’m wearing any damn matching shirts.” Parker just gives him this gleeful grin, like she knows he’s going to end up in it. Dammit. “And I’m not weird about it, I’m normal about it. None of you have ever heard of discretion.”

“It’s not normal to lie about family.” Parker says firmly, and he remembers that her crime mentor dad never told his other family about her. He definitely doesn’t want to think he falls into that same group as that fool -- and here he goes again, playing himself. He basically just walked himself into family Thanksgiving with the Hardisons. He went from ‘definitely not’ to ‘what sort of man would I be if I didn’t.’ It’s a rare self-grift he just pulled off.

“Alright, fine. What’s the plan?” He turns to Hardison. Hardison seems surprised that Eliot is giving in so easy. But Eliot’s got no pride here, if he’s in, might as well go in prepared.

“Plan?”

“Yes, plan, Hardison. The plan! How are you going to tell everyone, how do we stop them from being dicks about this.”

“Uhh.”

“You’re telling me,” Eliot said dangerously, “that you just wanted us to walk into a full den of your family, in matching shirts that say ‘I’m with her and him,’ or whatever other ridiculous slogan you had, and expect to catch no shit for it?”

“Yes?” Eliot frowns, looks over to Parker for solidarity, but she’s just kicking her feet against the table placidly. “To be fair, I don’t care about what most of them think and if they don’t like it they can leave.” Eliot’s glare intensifies. “Alright, fine! I’ll update the Facebook group with our relationship status so they’re prepared. Nana will keep everyone in line. Happy?”

“Extremely,” Eliot growled out before turning back to save the goulash from burning. At least he can stop one thing from ending in catastrophe.

\---

His alarm goes off the next morning for his and Parker’s usual run. She’s already up, has been for a while -- Eliot remembers her elbow making contact with his ribs as she scrambled out of the middle. So he could conceivably pretend to be asleep and avoid whatever confrontation Parker has planned for him. If he does, whatever happens is going to be worse because he ducked her.

He considers it. But that would be ducking her again and he can’t start avoiding her, not listening to her, not caring about her concerns -- that would make him the world’s shittiest boyfriend.

He’d like to think he isn’t that yet. And the only way to not go that direction is to try to be better everyday. So he groans a little and yanks himself out of bed leaving Hardison spread out against sheets, warm and inviting. He turns his back so he won’t get tempted and pulls on his running gear.

Parker doesn't look surprised to see him when he gets down, which is gratifying. She never has to know he thought about not coming.

She’s got her gear on already. He decides to head this off at the pass. “Do you want to go for a run or do you want to just tell me off directly?” He aims for good humor, but it’s a little strained. He never wants Parker to be disappointed with him.

She frowns and his heart sinks a little. “Why would I tell you off? You were confused, then Hardison explained, now you aren’t confused and we’re having Thanksgiving.” She nods a little, ponytail bouncing, and gives him a pat. “It’s ok, Hardison confuses me all the time.” 

He smiles back at her. “Alright then,” he says.

She leads the way to the door. She opens it, but just before she leaves she says, “Now you know that we’re never going to ask you to hide.” She just casts that over her shoulder, easy as anything then continues on. Eliot pauses, struck. 

Eliot shakes his head to clear it and follows.

\---

He puts it out of his mind, aside from letting the line cooks know they’re getting a day of paid time off for Thanksgiving. It’s the first Thanksgiving they’ll get to spend with their loved ones in years and if that doesn't say something about the state of this country, he’s not sure what does.

But it all comes crashing into him when Hardison sits him and Parker down at the briefing table and pulls up a massive spreadsheet on one screen and a map with connected lines on another. 

“Right,” Hardison begins, clicking once to switch the display to a multi-screen takeover of a schedule. “There are twenty-one Hardisons coming in starting Wednesday night. I have divided the list --” another click and the spreadsheet returns, only colour coded. Belatedly, Eliot realises that Hardison has  _ triaged out  _ his family. “--into ‘self-sufficient,’ ‘can hire a service,’ and ‘we gon’ hear about it.’” 

He chews his lip a little. “Just like the name implies, for that last group, I need to get them from the airport and get them installed here at the brewpub or in their own suites at the Hilton. Getting a block of rooms for Thanksgiving was not easy, let me tell you, but I have done it and they better appreciate it. That still leaves us with,” he clicks again, “10 personal pickups. Now the problem is,” another click to reveal the airport schedule, “The gap between the first plane arrival and second arrival is under 30 minutes, leaving some of my more wrathful -- and we’re talking ‘oh this can never be forgotten’ -- family members chilling at the airport for over an hour. We have a few options -- “

Parker puts up her hand. “Yes, Parker?”

“Put me in, coach! I can drive,” Hardison and Eliot wince simultaneously. But then Hardison’s face goes conflicted and,  _ oh no. This is happening,  _ Eliot realises. Have they learned nothing? Parker’s driving can best be described as  _ tactical.  _ As in, a type of asymmetrical warfare best deployed on your enemies. Eliot can’t forget the screams of the motion activated Santas as they tumbled off the cliff. How can Hardison put that aside?

“Uh, Hardison,” Eliot opens, trying to do the reasonable thing and talk him down but before he gets a chance Hardison sends him an anguished look and turns to Parker determinedly.

“You’re in.” He keeps thinking he’s realised the gravity of the situation they’re in, but then Hardison makes another desperate choice and Eliot realises he’s only begun to scratch the surface of how batshit this is going to be. “Parker, I’ll send you a list of your family members with pictures and minor likes and dislikes. Standard dossier,” Parker nods like this isn’t insane.

Hardison turns to Eliot, “You can’t help because you’ll be in the kitchen. Nana says she is ‘interested’ to see your approach to the meal.” Hardison makes air quotes and everything. Eliot reminds himself he wants this woman to like him and so he will tolerate her criticisms. “I’ve provided some suggestions--” he clicks again. That’s a step too far. Telling Eliot how to cook in his own kitchen? No way.

“No! You can run your planned campaign when it comes to the logistics, but dinner? I’ve got this.” He did too, he ordered three turkeys from his favourite farm as soon as he cancelled his flights. He’s got the menu planned. Canapes to start, squash soup, local greens salad, turkey, two potato sides, roast pumpkin, and a selection of pies. He’s already on his 4th batch of doughs, not that Hardison needs to know any of that.  

Hardison just peers at him worriedly. “Normally, I’d agree with you, but are you ready to embrace Aunt Loretta’s sweet potato casserole and Shauni’s tomato cranberry sauce? If your food outperforms that casserole -- “

“Let me guess, we’ll be hearing about it?”

“In one.” Eliot shrugs, the brewpub’s kitchen is big enough that everyone should be able to get their own work space.

“You have five kitchen helpers, I’ve prepared you a dossier on each one.” Eliot opens his mouth but Hardison throws up a hand. “ _ Please  _ review it.” Eliot shuts his mouth. Eliot is trying to think of the last time he saw Hardison so worried about a job. It’s been a while. He grumbles, but it’s mostly for show. He’s pretty committed to not letting Hardison down for this.

“Ok, moving on to the seating arrangements,” the slides click and Eliot tries to pay attention.

\---

The final few days pass in a blur of condensed milk and turkey brining, but it’s still somehow a surprise when Hardison announces he’s off to the airport to get Nana.  _ Of course she’s staying with us, Eliot, I can’t put Nana into a hotel.  _ Hardison’s panicking like he never does on jobs anymore and he runs around the apartment a little futilely, Parker observing, trying to figure out if they missed anything incriminating or likely to catch on fire. 

It’s Wednesday. T-day minus-1. 

All too soon, Hardison’s back and calling up the stairs so Eliot and Parker head down. This is going to be his first time meeting the parents since Aimee and they grew up together, so it wasn’t really a thing.

The first thing that strikes Eliot is how young Nana is. When he hears ‘Nana’ he thinks about a small, rotund octogenerian with bifocals. Instead, Nana is a tall, like just shorter than Hardison and who barely looks to be the 62 years old that Eliot knows she is. Being close to the same height is where the resemblance ends, instead of Hardison’s features she’s got a heart shaped face and light brown eyes. Nana fills up the room, she hasn’t said anything and Eliot already finds himself at attention, ready and waiting. Sophie has that kind of presence, when she turns it on. Nana seems like she has it on all the time.

Hardison barely takes a breath to introduce her when she reaches out to Parker, and pulls her into a hug. “Well, look at you, you’re like a doll.” Parker is totally stiff in the hug, keeping her arms at her side, and thankfully Nana Hardison releases her quickly. 

But then she casts her glance over to Eliot and he knows what he looks like. He’s old, and male, and white, and too angry to be good for anyone’s son. He’s not what he’d have picked for Hardison if he were her. 

But if she’s thinking any of that, she doesn’t let on and just says, “You must be Eliot,” and pulls him into the same hug. He raises his arms to loosely wrap his arms around her, gently, like he’s scared of getting burned. The hug is just short of crushing, it makes him feel enveloped. He does his best to return the hug but he’s under no illusions that he’s doing any better than Parker did. Confirming this, in the background, Hardison rolls his eyes.

Nana detaches and Eliot hastily lets go. “All right, enough chatter,” Nana’s voice cracks like a whip. “Alec, you bring my bags up, Eliot, show me to the kitchen, I want to see it before we do anything else.”

He starts escorting her but something compels him to say, “Uh, ma’am, it’s an industrial kitchen and it might not be what you’re used to.”

“Oh, I won’t be cooking,” she dismisses him breezily, “That’s what daughters-in-law are for. I just want to see what we’re working with.” Helplessly, he takes her around while she peers at everything. She pronounces herself satisfied and then he takes her up to her room so she can nap. The whole operation takes less than ten minutes. He lets himself breathe in for a couple of moments and realizes:

He has not made a single decision since Nana walked in that door. 

“One final thing,” she says when he’s depositing her at her room. “This meal is under your roof, under your kitchen, so don’t forget it.” She peers at him, eerily kind of like Hardison. “Do you understand what I’m saying?” He doesn’t and she can clearly tell. She looks disappointed in him. Weirdly, it makes him want to stand up straight and try better. “I’m saying, don’t let anyone boss you around your own oven, you hear me?” Ah. The famous daughters-in-law and their sweet potatoes. He nods, yes, ma’am.

Somehow he feels like that command doesn’t apply to Nana Hardison though and she’s allowed to boss him around as much as she likes. He wanders back down to Hardison and Parker.

“How did it go?” Eliot just stares at Hardison actually unsure. She told him to stand up for himself? But then she also looked disappointed in him. It’s a wash. He must look especially conflicted because Hardison continues, “Don’t worry, Auntie Loretta’s coming this year, so even if she doesn’t like you, you’re not at the top of her list.” Eliot flashes to the briefing documents. Auntie Loretta: Nana’s sister, wife of Winston, mother of Garner, Devin, Tyrell, and Andre. There’s lots to keep track of, but Parker made up a fun mnemonic for Loretta’s kids: Don’t Grift Any Tomatoes.

There’s no time to ask Alec what he means because there’s a knocking on the door and Hardison lights up. Moments later, a voice calls from downstairs, “Alec?” and Hardison rushes out.

“Amber!” He picks his sister up in a big hug and twirls her around. 

“Hi Amber!” Parker pops out to say, and Eliot musters a little salute. She smiles and waves back at them, but Amber only has eyes for Hardison, so Eliot retreats into the domestic kitchen to pull together something for dinner. He doesn’t want to look like he’s trying too hard, but he needs to feed five so a beef wellington shouldn’t be too much. Right? He already had the puff pastry made up and frozen for the canapes tomorrow, so it’s not a big lift. He just needs to add a couple of sides and he can bake up some cookies, which also bake from frozen. He made a huge batch as backup desserts-slash-childcare activity for the youngest cousins. He can put them in when he takes out the beef so they’ll still be warm at dessert time.  _ See? _ He says defensively to himself, like he’s the one he needs to convince,  _ nothing fancy. _

He’s humming absent-mindedly and chopping some carrots when Amber reappears to sit next to Parker. “Smells amazing,” she says.

“Eliot’s food is the best -- he puts feelings in it.” Amber just blinks in response which is why he likes her, and would even if she wasn’t Hardison’s favourite.

“Food’s still got another forty minutes on it, easy,” he observes. He means,  _ if you want to spend more time with Hardison. _

“Well, Alec’s up getting inspected by Nana, so I figured I’d hang out with you, you know, before the horde descends.”

“Why do you both call it that?” Parker asks and Eliot puts down his knife. He also wants to know. Amber makes an inquisitive noise. “‘The horde,’ Hardison calls it that too.” Parker frowns, “this is going to be confusing, Hardison with all the other Hardisons.”

“Well, not all of us are Hardisons, you know? I took the name and Alec did too, but there’s a mixture of people who got married and two of the other kids never took it. Jorge’s still got his mom’s name, so he’s an Espinoza and -- you don’t want to hear all of this, you’re going to get enough of this tomorrow.” Also, Eliot is more than aware that all of Loretta’s kids are actually Johnstons and Hardison’s sister Shauni is now a Morgan. He even knows that Monica -- who is not even attending this year -- is a LeRoy. It was part of the background.

“Anyway, how are you?” Amber has changed the subject. “Enjoying some time off work? Though I guess maybe your schedules aren’t so regular, what with you both being consultants.” Ah right, what was the backstory? He should have reviewed it before anyone came in but he’d been focused on the family dossiers. Sloppy.

“Pretty good,” Parker begins, “I just authenticated a Matisse and Thanksgiving is a pretty slow time for  _ crisis management  _ so Eliot’s mostly been prepping food.”  _ Thanks Parker, way to simultaneously save my bacon and throw me under the bus _ , Eliot thinks.

Amber eyes the dinner preparations thoughtfully. He watches her glance skim past the three sauces that are reducing on the stove, the five grain dish settling on the sideboard and the carrots he’s got in his hand, ready to be candied.

“It’s nothing really, just getting the fridge stocked up,” Eliot mumbles then returns to the stove to stir the bechamel vigorously. Parker must make some gesture cause Amber laughs out loud. 

He clears his throat, and asks before they can make fun of him some more, “What about you? Anything interesting recently?” This seems to be a good conversational gambit because Amber launches into an explanation of the spectral analysis work she’s been doing from the data NASA’s getting off Cassini. And as long as he ‘hmms’ and ‘ohs?’ at the correct moments, she’s a self-perpetuating machine, just like Hardison -- Alec. If he keeps this up, she seems capable of continuing on indefinitely. Eliot sneaks a glance at Parker but she’s entranced...and eating the cookie dough. He declines to say anything about it and risk commentary from Amber. He lets that carry them until it’s close to food and he can send Parker off to get Hardison downstairs.

Amber helps him set the table, and Nana and Hardison come down just in time to eat. Nana gives him a raised eyebrow at the spread but Amber and Hardison are in raptures about the food so he’s going to take it as a win.

Nana sets Hardison on cleanup duty and he just gets up and does it, no whining, no attempt to get out of it. Eliot would make a comment, but Hardison’s face promises a world of regret if he does so he just sits there, fiddling a little with his cutlery.

\---

Nana goes to sleep pretty quickly after dessert and Parker is distracting Hardison with -- something, so goes up to Amber to ask, “so uh, how bad is this going to suck tomorrow?”

She looks at him speculatively. “In what way?”

He just shrugs, it feels a little juvenile to start whining about being worried the kids won’t like him. But he can’t screw up Hardison’s family up for him. Parker and Hardison are all he’s got but he likes that the reverse isn’t true for Hardison. He wants him to have a whole passel of relations who look out for him. 

But he’s also not sure he can take a full day of insinuations and denigration without snapping. The best part of being out of the army was the freedom to tell someone to shove it if they didn’t like his choice of bed partners. That, and the better gear he gets to play with now.

Amber looks like she’s hoping for more, but she says, “Probably not that bad, to be honest.”

“No one cares?” It seems unlikely but stranger things have happened.

“Are you kidding? We’re all  _ super  _ into this, and this family is all up in each other’s business. People knew I’d met you and my Facebook Messenger has been hopping. This is the most exciting thing to happen since Auntie Loretta found out that her son Tyrell stopped going to church.”

“You go to church?”

“No, but I’m not stupid enough to let Nana find that out.” She waves her hand, “Anyway, the only way you aren’t getting the full experience is because Nana dropped the hammer on Facebook and said you were to be Left Alone.” She makes the capital letters very clear in her voice. Eliot knows Hardison was going to ask Nana to do something, but he’s trying to figure out what it means that she did. “Nana’s not going to let anyone do anything that might push Alec out of the family.”

Eliot processes that for a second, letting the words roll through his head a couple of times. It doesn’t really make sense. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Amber stares at him for a second, suddenly deadly serious. Amber’s so much like Alec that he forgot that she’s like Alec in this way too, that underneath her positive exterior she has a well of emotional sincerity that blows him down. Eliot can’t honestly communicate a feeling to save his life. “We all decided we were family, it wasn’t blood or the law that made us one. Shauni wasn’t even living at home any more when Nana brought me in, but she decided I was her sister and she treats me like one. We had to,” she pauses, thinking about the word she wants, “negotiate what it meant to be related. Maybe other families feel like this, but all of us are acutely aware that at any point any one of us could just change our mind and decide not to be family any more.”

Eliot hears what she’s saying and he surely knows that family can just stop being family. But he can’t imagine Hardison deciding that, just because his family don’t approve of his wildly unusual romantic situation.

But what he says is, “So no one’s going to hassle us,” and the serious mood is broken. She snorts.

“No, you’re absolutely going to get it, just maybe a little sideways.” She tilts her head, contemplating. “If it gets to be too much, give me the signal and I’ll throw a plate. No one’s thrown a plate since Shauni and Jack got divorced.” Her eyes took on a bit of a gleam at the thought before she sobered a little and looked at him seriously. “But I mean, seriously, I’ve got your back.” She touches his shoulder. “I know how happy Alec’s been since he’s been with you, and that’s all I care about.” He’s pretty touched, he got the sense that Amber was protective of Hardison, and it’s nice to feel like she thinks he’s good enough for Hardison to extend that protectiveness to him.

\---

Eliot is still thinking about what Amber said to him when he crawls into bed. It’s Hardison’s turn in the middle tonight, which feels fitting. 

Hardison pulls Eliot and Parker in to his chest, so their faces are close to meeting over Hardison’s pecs.

“You know,” Hardison says, amused, “I used to be the black sheep cousin.” Hardison’s voice rumbles through his chest. It tickles Eliot’s ear a little where it’s pressed against the skin. “And now look at me! Hosting Thanksgiving like I’m legit.”

Eliot looks at him sideways, craning his neck. “Really? Black sheep?”

“Yeah. Pretty sure they all suspected I was into crime. And I wasn’t very good at attending family events, you know, because of the evading authorities thing.”

“Because you were actually into crime,” Eliot feels the need to point out.

“Damn straight. But now I’m a successful small business owner and everyone is relieved.” Alec smiles at Eliot. “That’s all you and Parker. You’re good influences.”

Eliot’s not sure what to think about that but Parker’s laughing. When she sees that he’s not, she pokes him in the cheek. He tries to dodge her, but Hardison has him gripped in pretty tight. So she pokes him again. So he tries to bite her finger, gently, so now she’s dodging him. Which sets Hardison off and Parker’s never stopped laughing and suddenly it’s more ridiculous that Eliot is the only one not laughing so he gives in and they all collapse into the giggles.

\---

He wakes up on T-Day to Parker leaning over his face. “Gah,” he says.

“You’ve got this,” her voice is way too intense for seven in the morning. “Eye of the tiger.” She points at both her eyes then turns her hand to point at Eliot’s eyes. She pushes herself out of bed and Eliot drags himself out to follow her. He catches himself staring at his dresser drawers. What is the right outfit to wear to impress the Hardisons? They’d managed to convince Hardison to leave off the matching shirts idea, but now that leaves him with choices. He dithers for a long time before selecting a blue-button down, matching blue bandana and his jeans with no holes in them. Considering 90% of his wardrobe is solid coloured button-downs, that shouldn’t have taken him so long.

He lets Parker make him breakfast when she insists, since he’s going to be on food duty for the rest of the day. Which means that he’s eating a bowl of sugary cereal and drinking one of the fantastically good cups of coffee their state of the art machine makes, when Hardison and Amber drag themselves down.

Eliot pours them both a cup of coffee with no comment.

Amber’s halfway through hers when she lifts her head, stares dead-eyed at Hardison, and says: “Why.”

“Because,” Hardison says grimly, “I volunteered you to drive. And drivers are on duty early.”

“Yes, but that’s only because you threatened to make me cook.”

Parker cocks her head. “You cook?”

Amber winces and makes a flapping motion. “Not so loud, Nana can’t know.”

“Oh,” Parker says, whispering, “Why not?”

Amber opens her mouth but Hardison beats her to it. “Amber watched an episode of Friends back in the 90s where she learned that if she pretended to care about Football she could get away with doing nothing at family gatherings.”

Amber glares at him. “And it’s worked too. Until today.”

“That’s right,” Alec says. “Today you drive. And it’s time.” All three of them nod and push away from the counter simultaneously, like they’re in Reservoir Dogs.

“You could have at least put your bowls in the dishwasher,” Eliot mutters to himself after they’ve gone before loading it up himself.

Cereal might have been enough for them but he can’t serve that to Nana so he whips up a small batch of pancakes and leaves them covered with a sign.

Then it’s down to the kitchen.

Now, some people think it’s best to start the day with vegetable prep but Eliot likes to start with the rolls. If you leave ‘em til too late, you can end up rushing the proof or the bake. Eliot isn’t going to serve the guests rocks masquerading as french rolls. Once he gets them kneaded and set for their first proof he starts on the pies. He already made the dough, so he just has to roll it out and get it blind baking. They’ll go in for their final bake when dinner is served, but he can do this part while the ovens are still free.

It’s quiet in the kitchen and the work is soothing, almost meditative. Parker said he puts feelings in the food, and that can be true, but the best part about cooking is the way it takes him to a space beyond thought.

He’s just put his last shell in the oven when the doors swing open. Eliot snaps up his head to see Hardison escorting in the first of his kitchen helpers. It’s Shauni of the famous sauce, followed by a surly looking teenage boy who must be her son Jaden. Shauni looks  _ exactly  _ like Nana, except that she’s around Eliot’s age. He girds himself for the day to come. 

“Just put the stuff down and then you can go play video games,” Shauni is clearly forcing an even tone between clenched teeth. Jaden rolls his eyes and drops a duffel bag down on the counter before pulling up his hoodie and walking out. Shauni sighs.

“Okay then,” Hardison says. He drags out that O just long enough to be plausibly deniable. “Shauni, Eliot. Eliot, this is my sister, Shauni.” 

Eliot wipes his hands on the towel over his shoulder and reaches out a hand. “Eliot. Pleased to meet you.” They shake.

“Likewise. And Jaden and Aniyah are out there,” she waves vaguely over her shoulder, “somewhere.” She gives him a wry look. “Teenagers, right?” He’s still formulating a response to that one when she says, “Do you have a fridge I can put this in?”

“Sure, our fridge is this one.” He points to one at the back which normally holds sauces. She takes over both bags and unzips them. Then she starts carefully unloading bottle after bottle of wine into the fridge. Okay then, indeed.

“There’s not a lot to do right now--I mean, I might chop some vegetables but…” He shrugs a shoulder.

Shauni’s already nodding. “I’m just in here so I don’t have to pretend to care about the football. There’s actually not a lot for me to do this year. The cranberry sauce is already ready.”

Eliot tries to control his face but fails. Every time Hardison has mentioned tomato cranberry, Eliot’s brain has been going  _ an abomination!  _ Shauni must see something because her eyes sharpen.

“Oh, you have to try it.” She pulls out a spoon and Eliot is cornered. He steps forward. He hears the container pop open, the slight squelch as the spoon goes in. He reaches out his hand and--

It’s good.

The tomato isn’t present as a flavour, it appears to be more for consistency and as a carrier for spices.

His mind starts to whirr. He wants to draw out this flavour. He’ll need to tune the stuffing. Maybe even the carrots; he’ll want to reduce the sweetness on those.

She looks at him, knowingly. “You get it now.”

It’s his turn to nod. She whisks the container away and pops it back into the fridge, just in time for the doors to swing open for Parker to usher in Sheryl and Amber’s on her heels with Aisha. They’re cousins-in-law, if that’s a real thing. And that means that Devin and Garner are here. So that just means one carload to go.

A round of exclamations and hugs ensues while Eliot stands on the sideline awkwardly. They’re like one amorphous blob of brightly coloured shirts and patting hands.

They’re just finishing up catching each other up on what their kids are up to when Sheryl calls out for wine. “Girl, where’s it at?” She makes a grabby motion at Shauni.

Aisha interjects, “shouldn’t we wait for Maria?”

Sheryl puts her hands on her hips. “I heard she wasn’t coming this year.”

“You mean…” Aisha asks in hushed tones. “That bad with Andre?”

Sheryl nods and opens her mouth to speak but Shauni cuts in, “Sheryl! Maybe save it?” And Shauni nods meaningfully towards Eliot.

Eliot just looks down at the celery he apparently has in his hand. He knew he was an outsider coming in to this. He wasn’t going to let it bother him.

Sheryl cleared her throat loudly. “Wine?”

Once Shauni popped one open the conversation and wine started to flow again while Eliot worked on the stuffing.

\---

It wasn’t too long til Hardison was back with Chantal and the now infamous Maria. The crowd descends on Maria like they hadn’t been planning on dissecting her marriage an hour ago. 

Eliot makes eye contact with Chantal. She looks about as awkward as Eliot feels, which maybe makes sense since she’s the most recent addition. She only married Tyrell last year and she’s about Hardison’s age. If she was smart, she’d trade on Eliot’s extreme new status and work her way into the centre of the huddle. But looking at her and the way she winces when Sheryl shrieks a laugh, he doesn’t think that’s likely.

Chantal skirts the group and comes over to him. “Anything I can do?” She asks.

Eliot considers it for a moment. “Yeah, actually. It’s time to get the birds in the oven. Can you help me salt, pepper, and paprika them?” Eliot isn’t a believer in basting, he brines and tents the turkeys for a moist breast and a crispy skin.

“Oh, this reminds me: I need to get the extra turkey we brought out of the car.” Aisha flew from Atlanta. This means she flew for over eight hours, either clutching a turkey in her lap or with one squashed in her suitcase. 

He thinks this is what Nana meant, about not letting anyone boss him in his kitchen. He says loudly, “I’ve got enough turkeys.” Also a goose, because the ladies at the farm seemed to have picked up that this was the first Thanksgiving with the in-laws and sensed he was an easy mark. He’s never been upsold so fast in his life.

Aisha has the good grace to wince. “I know. It’s just that Devin’s an eagle scout, you know? He insisted that we stop on the way and grab one -- I told him it wasn’t a good idea.” So at least it wasn’t fully insane, just somewhat insulting. “I just want to make sure it isn’t going to smell.”

Eliot deflates a little. He’d been gearing up for the fight. 

“I’ll go with you,” Maria says, and they step out of the kitchen, leaving Eliot and Chantal to slide the birds home.

T-6 hours.

\---

Turkeys going in marks the end of the quiet period. Doesn’t matter how much you plan, how much you prep, how many ovens you have -- in this case four -- there’s a rush to get all the sides and starches in.

It’s a blur of mincing almonds, applying glazes, and peeling potatoes. Chantal proves herself to be competent with a sharp knife so Eliot asks her to help him. Everyone else also buckles down, blanching collards and preparing other sides but Eliot’s a little concerned about the amount of wine that’s they’ve already consumed which makes him wary about trusting them with any fine mincing work. There’s some chatter, but people are mostly focused on the work in front of them.

In the middle of this, Hardison bursts in. 

Hardison leans against the counter very close to Eliot, hip cocked. He’s close enough Eliot can feel Hardison’s breath on the back of his neck. Might have been welcome, even intriguing on another location, but right now it’s a literal symbol of the pressure bearing down on Eliot right now. Eliot almost growls.

“So,” Hardison opens with, “how’s it going?”

“How’s it going?” Eliot stabs his knife into a potato. “What does it look like, Hardison. I’m preparing a meal for twenty people, including a kid who won’t eat cheese, and I had to re-do my rolls because I forgot about them and they overproofed.”

Hardison nods a little, taking it all in. Abruptly, Eliot realises what he must look like, bandana soaking through with forehead sweat, spattered with tomato and sage. If he’s unlucky -- which he usually is -- he’s got crazy eyes on too.

“Sounds like you’re dealing with a lot, between the,” he gestures to the cutting board, “and the,” he gestures to the ovens where the turkeys are the only things not betraying him so far today. He thinks for a moment and then asks fake casual, “when was the last time you ate?” Eliot puffs up angrily, how  _ dare  _ he but then he realises, oh yeah. He hasn’t eaten anything since cereal which was served at oh dark hundred. And he is prone to getting a little cranky. He doesn’t say anything, but Hardison hears that in his silence.

“What I’m hearing, is that you’re a little hungry right now.” Hardison punctuates his words with a small smile. 

“Maybe,” he admits grudgingly.

Hardison starts patting randomly around Eliot’s station disturbing some flour and almost knocking over Eliot’s garbage bowl. Finally Eliot stops him by placing his hand overtop Hardison’s.

“What are you looking for?”

“The nibbles you saved for me.” Hardison says it matter-of-factly.

“What if I didn’t save you any?” Hardison looks crestfallen for a second and Eliot relents, pulling forward a covered plate. There’s some stuffing on it, some chopped veggies, and all of the safe to eat pie fillings. Hardison makes a pleased noise and takes a spoon to a little of each bit. He makes sure to have Eliot eat a little. Stuffing could maybe do with some more salt. All the while he keeps Eliot tucked against him, a little shelter from the noise of the rest of the room.

When he’s done he straightens up and says, “Here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to get Parker to get all y’all some lunch,” he gestures a little behind Eliot to where the crew is -- oh god -- watching this exchange. Hardison steps in closer, if such a thing were possible, and puts an arm around Eliot’s waist, which has the byproduct of making it easier for him to lean in to put his lips against Eliot’s ear. “You got this,” he says, echoing Parker, “Trust me. You’ve been preparing for this for weeks--”  _ how did he know? _ “-- and you’re an amazing cook. From what I’ve tasted, it’s going to be great.” 

Eliot can feel his body relax. There’s something about Hardison that is very calming; even when he’s freaking out unnecessarily it’s like soothing white noise. He leans into Hardison a little. Hardison brings up the hand that was on Eliot’s waist to cup his head and kisses his temple. They breathe like that for a second.

Then, Hardison ruffles Eliot’s hair and steps immediately out of Eliot’s grabbing reach. Oh, he’ll get him for this. Eliot levels a death glare and points a finger. “You.” He starts and then stops because he realises that everyone in the kitchen has stopped stirring and chopping to stare at him.

He blushes, mortified and starts stuffing his hair back beneath his bandana. So much for good impressions.

But they’re all just giving him fond smiles, Sheryl is even sniffing a little and Chantal gives him a full-on beam. Ok then, Eliot thinks, I guess this passes as cute in this family. He’ll take it.

And he takes it when Shauni comes around with the wine and makes sure to pour some in his glass. He raises his glass and his eyebrow and she just gives him a nod in acknowledgement. He feels good.

And he keeps feeling good all the way until Parker comes in with a box of paper bags. She bounds up to him and plonks the box down. “Hardison didn’t know what you wanted, so I just hit a bunch of food trucks.”

He peers into the box. There’s a burger, pad khee mao, bagels, tempura, and -- yes, winner, paani puri. He grabs them, looks up at Parker. She’s frowning so he also selects a takoyaki and some cauliflower ‘wings.’ Parker smiles. 

She looks around for a second then dashes off to drag a stool from the edge of the room to his station. She sits on it and stares at him expectantly so he starts to eat. If they were upstairs she’d perch on the edge of the counter like usual, but down here Eliot is serious about food hygiene. “Are you just going to watch me?” He asks, genuinely curious. 

“Hardison told me to make sure you took a real break and ate enough food, so I’m going to sit here til I’m satisfied.” He smiles down at her, smiling helplessly.

She gives the station a quick eye and flicks away the towel covering the somewhat demolished snack plate. He’d learned to do this two years ago when they’d ruined a trifle he was making by pecking out the centre of the ladyfingers which caused the layers to merge.

Parker sniffs at a glazed carrot and cocks her head. “You should try it with Shauni’s cranberry sauce.” Eliot brings her back a spoonful. She makes a surprised and delighted noise when she puts them together and Eliot feels triumphant. He  _ knew  _ his spice tweaks were a good idea.

He turns to share this with Shauni and sees that she’s staring at him. They’re all staring at him and Parker. And it’s not like with Hardison, their faces are blank, unreadable. A pit forms in his stomach. It’s one thing to be ok with a Facebook status that tells them their cousin or brother is dating two people, it’s a whole other thing to see those two people snuggling in the kitchen. 

He sees Shauni’s eyes flick to where his and Parker’s hands are overlapping on the spoon she’s pulling out of her mouth. He doesn’t know what to do. His desire to keep the Hardisons appeased tells him to drop his hand, take a step back until they can collect themselves. But he promised himself, promised  _ Parker  _ that he would never make her feel unwanted. He wouldn’t hide her away the way her thief mentor had.  _ You don’t hide with family,  _ Parker had said, and Eliot means not to.

So he just locks eyes with Shauni and lifts his chin. Shauni looks away. Eliot pans his gaze around the kitchen. Everyone else is busy chopping, stirring, even Maria who has basically doubled up on the cream sauce that Sheryl is working on. Everyone except Chantal who is darting her eyes between Eliot and the group, back and forth. Eliot just looks at her, let his face be neutral so she can make her own decision. Chantal turns back to her station.

Eliot can’t blame her. 

Eliot doesn’t begrudge her the chance to be welcomed into the chattering cluster that had dominated his kitchen for so many hours. It’s clear that the women in this family know each other and keep in touch across state lines and between special occasions. Chantal’s new and only 24 and she has a real chance of getting accepted if she can toe the line. 

He reaffirms his commitment to just keeping his head down and trying not to cause any arguments, which is probably the same approach Maria is taking if the vigorous way she’s pretending to stir an empty bowl is any judge.

Parker seems to be oblivious to the atmosphere in the room and says, in a bright, carrying voice, “Wow Shauni, that sauce is good! How come you know how to cook and Alec is so bad at it?” Everyone’s heads snap up, except Maria’s whose face is still communing with that bowl. Eliot winces, this can’t be good.

Shauni seems to take it in stride, deliberating for a second before walking over. “My dad taught me. He was from Louisiana before he came up to Durham and met Mama -- Nana to you. He said that any kid of his would know how to steam a crawdad and spice rice.” She’s got a smile playing over her lips, it’s clear how much she loved her dad. “So he taught me and Monica all of  _ his  _ dad’s secret recipes before I went off to college.”

“Is the sauce one of his?” Parker asks, curious.

“You know it.” Shauni seems proud, “I like to think he’d appreciate us keeping up the tradition. Though Jaden’s not been real keen on learning his basics.” She says that last part a little wry, eyes cutting to the side when Sheryl hoots, almost on cue. 

Parker won’t let herself be distracted, even if Shauni was maybe trying to give herself an out from this conversation. “How come he didn’t teach Alec?”

Shauni’s smile fades a little and she swallows once. “He died. A few years before Alec moved in.”

Parker sits there for a second, seemingly unsure of what to say so Eliot jumps in. “Very sorry for your loss.”

“Thanks.” She musters a smile. “But it’s ok. Mama only started taking kids in after he died, since she had his life insurance money, so we got a lot of love out of it.” 

Sheryl steps forward. “He’s in a better place now.” She put her hand on Shauni’s arm and said, “and right now he’s looking at you and judging real hard how your butter you’re browning is about to boil.” Shauni jerks out of Sheryl’s grip and ran back to the burner.

Everyone but Parker and Eliot laugh and the mood is broken. Parker stays for another minute, passing out the rest of the food, then announces she’s off to get Loretta and Jorge.

Everyone pauses for a second, Maria and Shauni exchanging knowing looks. Eliot wants to ask what that’s about, but he just got the focus of the room off of him, so he doesn’t press.

\---

He regrets not asking when Loretta bursts into the kitchen. Eliot knows she’s a couple of years younger than Nana but she doesn’t look it. Something in her face is hardened beyond her years.

Loretta casts her eye around the room, taking in all of the women working studiously then she sees Eliot and advances on him. He stands his ground, even when she thrusts a pyrex into his midsection with unnecessary force. Years of training force him not to react.

He grips the dish. She thrusts her finger into his face. “You better appreciate this, after what I had to do to get it here.”

Jorge leans into Aisha and says, “she got into it with a TSA agent who told her the casserole was a liquid.”

It’s telling that absolutely no one laughs when he says this. 

“The nerve of the man. Get that warming in the oven.” Loretta’s not looking at Eliot, but he assumes the comment is for him. He looks at the casserole. Underneath the saran wrap, it has an iridescent sheen, like an oil slick. The whole thing is violently orange and has a somewhat menacing vibe to it. Eliot begins to worry about what Loretta’s going to do when no one eats this.

He was jolted out of his reverie when Shauni says, totally even-toned, “Hi Auntie Loretta, how are you, where’s Uncle Winston.” 

Loretta spins around to face Shauni, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “He’s sacked out with the football, I presume.” She relaxes a little, not enough to seem relaxed, but less like she’s about to lunge and says, “Well. I’ll go find my sister.”

She sweeps out of the kitchen. The room stays dead silent for a couple of seconds after, no one stirring, as they all wait to see if she’s gone.

Jorge breaks the silence. “I think she made that TSA guy cry.” Grudgingly, Eliot gives Loretta points. He hates TSA; they’re jumped up rent-a-cops on their best day and on their worst day they’re bottom-feeding bullies with delusions of grandeur.

Jorge makes his way around the room, giving everyone a hug. Eliot focuses on pulling out the turkey and getting the foil tented over them. When he backs away, running his forearm over his brow, Jorge is there.

“You must be Eliot.” Eliot nods his head to acknowledge that this is the case. “Just wanted to say hey.” Jorge reaches out his hand, and surprised, Eliot takes it. They shake. “Cool,” Jorge says, “I’m going to go find Alec, help him out with the kids.” A smile steals across Eliot’s face, he wants to see Hardison wrangling three kids under ten, they’d dominate him.

\---

Dinner itself isn’t as bad as he thinks it’s going to be. The kids were running around and screaming but various parents have managed to wrangle them into the specially set aside tables. Again, the brewpub is working for them, with the counter laden with dishes and various tables set up for family.

The food is good, Eliot can at least say that, sweet potato monstrosity notwithstanding. Thanksgiving food is very heavy and tends to be sweet, and this meal is no exception, but he likes to think that his spiced yams and almond and broccoli dish are providing some acid accents.

All the cousins seem happy to talk amongst themselves and he ends up next to Chantal’s husband Tyrell, one of the quietest cousins. He’s clearly head over heels with Chantal, eyes drawn back to her whenever he’s not being asked a question. Hardison had herded him to this table and he realises that he’s at the ‘young cousins’ table with Amber and Jorge too. 

Eventually, conversation turned to Tyrell’s deployment. He was coming up on his third tour in Iraq. It made Eliot a little fatalistic sometimes, when he had gotten involved in civil wars, he at least knew what he was getting into; he knew it would be brutal and messy and with no clear ‘good guys,’ least of all him. But Tyrell had been sent in to be an occupier on a war that was theoretically already won, only to have a sectarian civil war spring up around him. And the brass hadn’t known what was going on for years, thinking of all insurgents indiscriminately. Now they were here again, Iraq caught up in civil war again, except this time it was spillover from Syria. If you asked Eliot, which no one did, was that they were letting themselves get distracted again, focusing only on ISIS, a convenient, clearly labeled opponent. Military minds like things with names. They’re ignoring the other groups jockeying for a slice of the region, like al-Nusra, which was just al-Qaeda, name changed just enough to throw joint command off the scent. As it was, ISIS didn’t really control all the territory it claimed to; Eliot had been there last year and outside of the cities the picture was a lot more complicated than that.

Except they  _ were  _ asking him his opinion. So he lays out what he thought, based on his experience, with edits for military secrets and civilian ears. It was still pretty heavy, but they seemed to want to hear it. He understood why; Chantal was clearly worried for Tyrell, Tyrell convinced that war with Syria was coming next, and Jorge was some sort of activist.

“I think I want to go to law school, actually,” Jorge says, jaw tilted defiantly. “Maybe do immigration law.” 

Hardison put his hands up in surrender. “Hey, sounds good, man, let me know where and when and I’ll help you out.”

Jorge looks at him suspiciously. “No rant about how lawyers are evil and tools of the state?”

Eliot looks at Hardison curiously. Hardison quickly explained, “really bad public defender when I was fifteen. Did  _ not  _ appreciate the difference between white and black hat hacking.”

Parker, deploying excellent conversational skills, got the conversation back on track. “Why a lawyer?”

Jorge shrugs a little and sipped his beer, “For my parents, I guess.” Everyone at the table stiffened up immediately. Eliot could see the moment that Parker was remembering what he was:  _ Jorge Espinoza, parents fled Nicaragua, had him in America, were deported and chose to leave him here to avoid the violence.  _

This is why family gatherings are the worst, there’s a world of history you can dig up without meaning to and you can’t just flee into the night after. It turns small talk questions like ‘how come Hardison can’t cook?” or “Why do you want to be a lawyer?” into land mines.

Chantal saved them by asking about the brewpub which they could all happily talk about and it got them through dinner.

\---

Eliot is starting to think they’ll make it through. It’s just pie and then they get everyone back to their hotels. Can’t be more than two hours to go. So he’s feeling cautiously optimistic as he and Parker go up to get dessert.

He’s feeling good about the pies as well. He got the crust recipe off a real-life British pastry chef he dated for a bit and it’s flaky as all get out. The secret is lard. At the end of the day it’s fat and sugar that makes things taste good. He’s got the usual flavours -- apple, pumpkin -- but also a fantastic raspberry rhubarb and a pecan. And finally the piece de resistance, which is a salted chocolate tart that’s basically a terrine it’s so rich. Parker grabs a little bit of everything and he smiles down at her; at the end of the day he bakes pies for her and Hardison.

They’re just stepping away when Andre lumbers up to them, he’s got a twist to his mouth that Eliot doesn’t like. Eliot would maybe try to guide him away, but his hands are full and anyway, guide him to where?

“So,” Andre opens, “Maria tells me you made all these pies.” Eliot inclines his head a little in acknowledgement. “What happened to you, man? Used to be a Navy SEAL and now Alec’s got you playing happy housewife.” His lips have turned into a full sneer. “Though I guess we don’t really need to ask --” Eliot’s been idly thinking about how easy it would be to take this guy down. The human body’s just a series of levers and pulleys and Eliot knows how to work all of them, it would be the work of a moment. Some of that must be filtering up to his face because some tiny spark of self-preservation seems to light up in Andre’s eyes and he falters. 

Eliot takes a breath. This guy doesn’t bother him. He sells tires, for Christ’s sake. Some people take a good thing and try to make it shameful. But Eliot knows something about shame and when it comes to this, to these people, he has none. 

But he didn’t count on Parker. Andre’s barely stopped talking when she bursts in, too loud, “Don’t talk about him like that!”

The room stops as everyone’s heads turn as one to stare. Eliot keeps his gaze trained on Andre, just in case, but out of the corner of his eye he can see Hardison start coming towards them.

Andre, temporarily cowed by Eliot, is back twice as angry because now he’s been cowed and he has to prove he’s man enough. Eliot knows this type. Andre hisses, “I’ll speak to him however I like and I’ll speak to you not at all. What type of woman goes with --” Eliot steps between them and puts out a hand towards Andre’s shoulder.

“I’m going to have to ask you to step back.” He’s in full ‘security consultant’ mode. Isolate the threat, get some distance, defuse.

“ _ Don’t  _ you put a hand on my son,” Loretta says. And great, he forgot about the delicate politics at play here and they’re going to bite him.

By this point, Alec’s made his way over to stand next to Eliot and Parker’s ducked out from behind Eliot’s screen to stand shoulder to shoulder with him. Chantal’s got her torn face on again and Eliot has a premonition of the way this is going to go, if earlier in the kitchen had taught him anything. “Control your, your,” Loretta’s searching for something and Eliot sure hopes that whatever she ends up with won’t set this room on fire. She comes up with, “your  _ guest. _ ”

Hardison’s voice is shaking a little when he says, “His name is Eliot and he’s my partner and he has the right to be respected in our home.” And then he takes the pie plate out of Eliot’s hand and replaces it with his own hand. He feels Parker reach up and place a hand in the middle of his back, and he feels supported but also worried about what this show of unity is going to bring down.

“I’m not going to learn it, he’s not sticking around.”

Nana’s voice cuts in, ice cold. “Loretta, I have heard your opinion and it is not welcome.”

“Why are you humouring him?”

Nana’s teeth are clenched. “This is not what we agreed--” 

But Loretta cuts her off. “This so-called relationship is ridiculous. If we’d done Thanksgiving back at my house, Monica could have come with the baby instead of you parading us around this farce. Alec’s just trying to get a rise out of us like he’s always done and shame on you for falling for it.” He looked around and saw some looks agreement across a lot of the cousins. 

And  _ of course.  _ How could he have been so stupid? There’s no reason to disapprove of a temporary fling. The family is just doing its best to starve Hardison of the oxygen of controversy they think he’s after. Damn. He really does want them to like him, but that was a stupid hope. Parker is practically vibrating with rage next to him and Hardison seems to be struck speechless, but could he have hoped for any better? Except maybe for all of this to seethe under the surface, unspoken. It’s bad luck that it all got said out loud but Eliot’s not going to humiliate himself about this any more than he has already. Seven pies was definitely trying too hard.

In the background he can see Amber eyeing the plate in her hands, but she looks scared and indecisive in a way that Eliot feels at his core. He also wouldn’t be risking a fight with these people if he could avoid it, and it has to be worse for her. Eliot shakes his head at her and she looks relieved for a split second before looking furious. At least she’s on their side.

He takes a breath, planning out his retreat when he hears a crash. Amber’s still holding her plate, eyes wide. 

It’s Maria. She hefts a second plate, considering. “Fuck you, Andre,” her voice is almost calm. If it wasn’t for the shards of ceramic at her feet and the words she’s saying, you’d think this was a casual conversation. “It’s none of your business who Alec wants to fuck.”

“Um,” Sheryl says, tilting her head meaningfully towards where the kids are all sitting and staring, eyes wide.

Shauni sighs. “Jaden?” She jerks her thumb to the back stairs.

“Ugh, mom!” 

“Now.” She says firmly, and Jaden gathers up all the kids and ushers them ahead of him in a gaggle.

Maria’s still been going while this has been going on and Eliot’s been making out words like ‘hypocrite’ and some more swearing. It seems like a lot of this has been pent up. “Come for Thanksgiving, you said! See the family, have a nice time, don’t ruin this for them, you said. Was that just so you could ruin Thanksgiving yourself? Well, I’ve got news for you, this was your last chance, you bastard, and you blew it.” And then she burst into tears.

Shauni stepped up. “Come on,” she said gently, and walked Maria away.

The room’s unsettled after that and too quiet. No one seems to know what to say.

Except Eliot has something he wants to say, even if maybe this isn’t the right time or right crowd. 

“You don’t know,” his voice is a bit of a rasp and he’s not sure if it carries. He clears his throat and starts again. “You don’t know me. But I’ve stuck around six years and I’m going to stick around forever. I’d say it in front of God if they’d let me.” He’s warmed up now and his words are hopefully hitting their mark. Amber’s eyes have gone shiny. Chantal and Tyrell have stepped in close to each other. 

“Har -- Alec doesn’t quit and he’s not going to just give up on us and you need to figure out what to do with that, not the other way around. Maybe you didn’t choose us, but he did. He chooses us every day, so don’t think you can outwait us because Alec’s not the only one who’s tenacious and we’ll outlast you.” He risks a glance at Nana, who at the end of the day is the only one who’s approval he really cares about. She’s eyeing him speculatively.

Mortified, he looks over at Parker who jaw lets him know she’ll back him to the end of the earth. And Alec’s grip on his hand has done nothing but tighten.

But he figures he’s done enough damage for right now so he says, “That’s all,” and beats a tactical retreat to the kitchen. Both Parker and Hardison looked like they wanted to follow him but he needs a minute. Once he gets back into the blissful quiet of the kitchen he starts whipping the crap out of some cream for the cocktails he’d planned. He made a note of all the people who think he shouldn’t be here though, so maybe no cocktails for them. 

He’s relaxed a bit and finally gotten into the groove mixing up the punch bowl when he hears the kitchen door open. He remembers again and cringes. “Hardison, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have lost my temper.” He wipes his hands and steps out from behind the divider. “How bad is --“ he notices it isn’t Hardison but instead it’s Nana. His mouth goes dry.

“Ma’am,” he says.

“Oh now you’ve come over all polite, huh,” she says, but she’s smiling. He still cringes though.

“Ma’am, I want to apologise, I should have let it go.”

She tuts. “I disagree. The people in this family stick up for themselves.” He just looks at her blankly and she sighs.

“I’m trying to tell you that you’re welcome at my table for as long as this thing with Alec lasts.” He feels the anger come over him again. How dare anyone say he’s going anywhere. She looks at him shrewdly, “which I’m guessing is for a long time.” She runs her fingers over the wedding ring on her fourth finger. “You and Parker both.” She reaches out to pat him on the shoulder a little patronisingly.

\---

In comparison to what came before, the rest of the evening goes really well. Andre had been ostracised into the corner and everyone else is faking cheeriness and pointedly avoiding relationship topics. Nana had Loretta pulled into a corner and they stuck there until everyone starts pouring into a taxi. He’d even gotten some hugs on the way out, including one from Shauni which had surprised and pleased him.

Even so, Eliot is still deeply relieved when he got into their bedroom and shut the door.

Hardison is still saying good night to Nana in the other room so he and Parker are just undressing in silence, a welcome break after the noise and pressure of the day. Sometimes he and Parker could go full days in silence, just recharging.

But Hardison comes in soon enough. “I’m sorry, guys,” he sounds pretty anguished about it.

“Not your fault,” Parker says at the same time that Eliot says, “What for?” They turn to stare at each other.

Eliot’s suspicious he maybe knows what for. “What did Andre say to you?” He asks Parker. “You went off on him really fast.”

“Nothing.” He squints at her. “No, really, nothing. Even when I was being very good about caring about football.” She rubs her hands together a little. “He was just very rude. You made him a really nice dinner and he didn’t say thank you.” She seems a little sad and Eliot reaches out a hand for her to grab. “It just wasn’t what I expected.”

“What did you expect, Parker?” It’s not a judgemental question, he wants to know. 

She shrugs a little. “I think I watched the same Friends episodes Amber did. I wanted that.” Eliot has seen Friends, it was unavoidable as someone who spent any time on military bases and airports, but he doesn’t know exactly the episodes they’re talking about. But he thinks he might get the gist; people being happy and having a good time.

“I had a bit of that, in the kitchen. Shauni poured me some wine.” Parker perks up a bit at that.

Hardison still seems agitated. “I don’t know why everyone behaved like that.” He looks at them beseechingly. “I’m not trying to justify anything, I promise. It’s just, even Loretta’s always been on my side, even when she was telling me off.” He chewed his lip a bit. “When I got arrested that one time when I was fifteen, Loretta clerked for the city. She found out about it and got them to drop the charges. And then she put the fear of God into me, but still.” He sits on the edge of the bed and Parker and Eliot circle to face him. He looks at them dead on. “I don’t get why now, when I’m all happy, that people have a problem.” Eliot’s heart breaks a little. “But today was not ok and I want to say, you never have to see any of them ever again if you don’t want to.”

That’s one of the stupidest things Eliot’s ever heard so he shoots back. “Even Nana?”

Hardison swallows and just nods.

Eliot shakes his head. “They’re your family, man. You can’t say that.”

“But Eliot,” Parker puts in, “Didn’t you say that we’re his family too?”

“Well, yes, maybe, but,” he rubs his forehead a little, “it’s not worth it.”

Parker looks at him shrewdly. “When you say it’s not worth it, do you actually mean, ‘I’m not worth it.’”

Eliot winces.

“Goddammit, Eliot,” Hardison launches himself at Eliot’s waist and grips on. He buries his face in Eliot’s stomach and says muffled. “My family were the ones who were absolute assholes today, can we focus on that and stop making everything about you?”

Eliot barks out a laugh. “I don’t think we need to worry though,” petting Hardison’s head so he’ll tilt back and make eye contact. “Nana said I was welcome any time.”

Hardison lets out a wet laugh and wipes his nose all over Eliot’s shirt. Disgusting. But he’s smiling.

“It’s not real until she gives you a sampler.”

“Oh you mean this?” Parker says pulling out a small cross-stitch that says ‘God Bless This Home’ surrounded by little white flowers.. Hardison looks like he’s having a heart attack. 

“Yes, woman, one of those!” 

And it’s Parker’s turn to tackle them, bringing them all down into a heap on the floor.

They’re all tangled up and Eliot can’t tell where he ends and they begin and everything feels just right.

  


**Author's Note:**

> Comments are loved! Even copying a line you liked means a lot.
> 
> This fic is now rebloggable on Tumblr: [Here ](https://tmblr.co/ZD3Daw2jiipEe)


End file.
